3 teaspoons of anise, 6 cups of flour and lots of love: My grandma's biscochitos recipe is more than a delicious cookie

Sitting on the corner of my grandma’s kitchen counter is an old, white Hamilton Beach mixer. From the two attachable metal beaters to the matching glass Pyrex bowls, every inch of that mixer holds a special memory.

Its first home was in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where it sat in the kitchen at 1016 Don Cubero Avenue. The smell of warm, earthy anise would fill the room as it was hard at work, beating lard until it formed fluffy peaks.

The antique mixer originally belonged to Rita Gonzalez, my great-grandmother and the mother to my grandmother, Dolores McCulloch, aka Meema. The purchase had been life-changing. No longer was there the need to hand-mix cookie dough, pushing through the burning sensation that arose in your arms.

In the 1980’s, the mixer moved states, finding its new and final home in Nogales, Arizona. Just like in New Mexico, the mixer would be uncovered around Christmas time, ready to cream together lard, eggs and sugar.

Each and every year, my meema could count on her trusted mixer to create a special cookie that not only represented her childhood, but also her children's and grandchildren’s.

Biscochitos are her specialty, using a family recipe that spans four generations. To us, the cookie is more than a crumbly, melt-in-your-mouth treat. It embodies decades and decades of love.

For those unfamiliar, biscochitos are a New Mexican delicacy. (In fact, it’s the official state cookie.) Now, this isn’t your average sugar or chocolate chip cookie. Biscochitos are made with lard and anise, so you get a tender, buttery cookie packed with warm, comforting spices.

My meema's grandmother was the biscochito maker in the family. If your family had a member who could make biscochitos, you hit the lottery. The process is time-consuming, so the cookies are very much sought after (and expensive).

My meema was too young to bake the cookies with her grandmother, but when she got older, she was able to learn all the secrets from her neighbor.

“I really learned from the neighbor across the street and hers were famous,” Meema said.

Just like that, my grandma assumed the role of the Gonzalez family biscochito maker. Of course, all the burnt ones would go straight to her little brother, Raul.

Every time Christmas rolled around, Meema was in the kitchen, rolling out dough and cutting out star-shaped cookies. With each year, she learned a new trick or tweaked the recipe.

For example, instead of crushing the anise herself, she had the bright idea of putting the seeds into her coffee grinder, making the perfect consistency. 

She also had to finally retire her beloved mixer a few years ago. The old mixer just couldn’t beat the lard anymore and would get hot to the touch, so she substituted my mom’s fancy Kitchen Aid mixer.

Though methods and the amount of anise changed from year to year, the deliciousness stayed exactly the same.

Days leading up to Christmas Eve were like biscochito madness: Meema's kitchen counter would be covered in flour, balls of dough and various cookie cutters. My mom, her sister and the grandchildren would sit around, helping my meema roll and cut dough, sneaking bites of the raw cookie dough in between.

When it was finally the 24th, you’d step into my grandparents' house and head straight to the dessert table where mountains and mountains of flower-shaped biscochitos sat. I’d come around every 30 minutes, pop one in my mouth and continue on my way, savoring every last bit of cinnamon sugar goodness.

This year was finally time for the family tradition to be passed on to the next generation. I headed over to my meema's house one Monday morning, ready to finally learn the secrets to the beloved cookie.

As she said, first we had to “beat the hell” out of the lard. After a couple minutes on full speed, the lard was looking perfectly fluffy. Then, we slowly added in the anise, sugar and eggs.

Once everything was combined, we added the dry ingredients. Be warned, adding in too much at once will cause a flour explosion (I got flour all over the counter, my outfit and the ground).

Soon, you’ll see the dough start to form. Once it’s ready, Meema likes to separate it in balls, wrapping them each up and storing them in the fridge. You want to let the dough sit so it soaks in all the good flavors and spices.

She likes to have the dough chill for a week, ensuring maximum flavor. If your dough is on the drier side, you can add a small splash of sherry wine to help bring it back to life.

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When the dough was ready to be rolled out, she got her two rolling pins, one that belonged to her mom and the other to my grandfather's — my tata's — mom, and sprinkled flour on the surface.

As we rolled our chunks of dough, we laughed, gossiped and reminisced about our favorite memories. I even showed her Bad Bunny on my phone (she said she’s seen cuter men, can you believe it?).

We were rolling, cutting and placing the cookies into the oven for about two hours. Every so often, my tata would magically appear, looking to steal some of our biscochitos.

The kitchen now smelled like rich, spicy cinnamon and sweet sugar. It takes me back to when I was a kid, running around with my sisters and cousins, trying to decide what kind of performance we wanted to put on after Christmas dinner.

Now, it’s customary to burn the first batch. Biscochitos will burn in an instant, so once they have a golden brown hue, you’ll want to take them out. The first batch will always just be for family, and once you play around and figure out the right time, you’ll start getting picture-perfect cookies.

At the end of the hours-long process, you’ll be left with more than a dozen little biscochitos. You’ll pop one in your mouth, then another, chasing that flavor.

There was something so special about that day with my meema and as I drove away, I couldn't help but smile the whole ride home. It’s this little buttery cookie that makes me think of my grandparents and connects me with all my aunts and uncles in New Mexico.

It reminds me of Christmas Eve night, being told I could have no more biscochitos until after I finished my posole.

It reminds me of my Uncle Raul, who passed away a couple years ago, but always made the effort to come down to Nogales for Christmas.

It reminds me of my sisters and cousins, who no matter how old we get, once we’re back in my grandma’s house, we're playing and laughing like we're 10 again.

No matter what challenges we face during the year, I know that once the 24th rolls around, we’ll all be gathered around the biscochitos, continuing to pass on the tradition the Hamilton Beach mixer started.

Biscochitos recipe

By Granny Horcasitas (my great great grandmother)

• 6 cups of flour
• 3 tsps baking powder
• 1 tsp salt
• 3 tsp ground anise (you can add more!)
• 2 cups of pure lard
• 2 eggs
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 small glass of Sherry if needed

1.  Sift flour, baking powder and salt in a bowl and mix together.

2. In a separate bowl, beat the lard until it has a fluffy consistency. Then, slowly add in the sugar, anise and eggs until well combined.

3. Combine the dry ingredients with the lard mixture and mix until dough starts to form. (If dough is dry, you can add a splash of Sherry to the mixture)

4. Leave dough to chill overnight (The longer it chills the better the flavor)

5. Sprinkle flour onto the surface and roll out your dough about ¼ inch thick.

6. Cut shapes into the dough and coat them on one side with cinnamon and sugar (McCulloch likes to use smaller cookie cutters for bite-size biscochitos)

7. Place the cookies onto a cookie sheet ( you can pile them on, they won’t spread!) and into the oven for around 8 minutes at 400 degrees.

8. Watch the time and figure out what works best! Once they have golden brown edges that means they are ready.

Enjoy with family!